Saved
by Tyler Christopher Durden
Summary: Harry is rescued by a petty thief from the Dursley's when he is eight. They travel to London and live on the street.


A/N: This story includes criminal behaviour of the main characters. If you do not wish to read about the illegal activities of children; please do not read this fanfic. This chapter also features strongly implied hatred of immigrants and abuse of the homeless. Again, if you're not comfortable with this, don't read. I do not agree with Vernon's views mentioned here. Vernon is an arsehole. I do not, nor have I ever owned the rights to Harry Potter.

Chapter One: Goodbye Privet Drive

13th December 1988 4:53 PM Just outside Bains' Cornershop, Little Whinging

Vernon Dursley bit down on an unlit cigar as he left the Immigrant Shop. "Damn Pakis. Damn Freak." He had no proof, but he knew it was the Freaks fault his car wouldn't start. He'd have gone to Asda if the damn car had started. Instead he'd had to go to the Immigrant Shop and deal with the disgusting Pakis. He lit his cigar. The Freak had probably made the eggs disappear to spite him. "Damn Freak's going without food for a few days. That'll show him." A rattling stopped his angry muttering for a few moments.

"Don't suppose you could give me a bit of money, could you?" Vernon looked down and saw a dirty, one legged man with a disgusting matted beard, who was holding a baked beans can up to Vernon. Vernon swallowed back his bile.

"Sure. Here you go." Vernon spat a large gob of phlegm at the beggar. "Get a job, you filthy hippie." Vernon took a puff of his cigar and went on his way, unaware he was being watched. He was enjoying the thought of locking the cupboard door, when he was grabbed and pulled into an alleyway. "What the ruddy Hell do you think you're doing?!?" The unknown person answered with a fist. A fist with a knuckle duster on it.

The metal weapon impacted with Vernon's nose repeatedly. A dazed Vernon was shaken until he looked at the balaclava-covered face of his assailant. "You disgusting nob-jockey! Spitting on a homeless person, let alone a man like that. He fought in the Falklands, you fat fuck! Did you fight in the Falklands? I doubt it. Too much exercise for you. They couldn't even let you drive a tank, you're too big to fit! Privileged socialite." The man, who sounded quite young, reached into Vernon's pocket and removed his wallet. "Cheers for this." He picked up the dropped cigar and put it in his mouth. "Bye, fuckface." He left the alleyway. Vernon felt a trickle of blood leave his mouth. He put his hand on the ground to push himself up and felt something wet. The eggs had smashed.

Nick Jacobson finished stashing his balaclava in his pocket and walked back the way he came. He put the cigar back in his mouth and turned his attention to the wallet in his hands. The fatty had been wearing an expensive looking suit. "'E should 'ave qui'e a bit of money. Question is: did 'e 'ave it in cash, or were it all on 'is card?" The moment of truth. He opened it up and grinned. It was more of a leer really. There, stashed in the lard-arse' wallet, was a wad of cash almost as fat as the previous owner. Nick looked up. He'd arrived back at Ed's corner. "You all right, Ed?"

The man Vernon had spat on looked up and grinned. "Never better. A bunch of people saw that over-privileged bastard spit on me and decided to give me some sympathy cash. I've never made more money!"

Nick grinned. He called the man Ed despite being Ed's grandson. "Glad somethin' good came out of it." He puffed on the cigar. "Here's some more good shit." He stuffed a handful of twenties in Ed's can.

Ed beamed at the money. "He was loaded then? Give us that cigar." Nick took a last puff before handing it over. "Cheers. You take his watch?"

"Shit. He had a watch?"

Ed nodded and blew out a breath of smoke. "Yeah, looked like a Rolex."

"Fuck! Do you think he'd have pulled his lard off the ground yet? I used my knuckle duster on the cunt."

Ed inhaled thoughtfully. He shook his head and exhaled. "Nah. He's probably managed to call for a crane, though. Could be a bit risky to go there." Nick sighed.

"You're probably right. You wanna go back to the squat, or are you going to beg a bit more cash?"

Ed shrugged. "Probably not gonna get anythin' else. It's too cold. Go sell the credit cards to Dave and then come back and help me to the squat."

"Sure thing." Nick walked across the street and went down a different alleyway to the one Vernon had been assaulted in. At the end of the alleyway was Dave, or, as he liked to be called: Edgy Dave. People only called him Edgy Dave when they wanted something from him. "Hey, Edgy Dave."

Edgy Dave smirked. "What can I do ya for?"

"Credit cards and a drivers license. Wallet too, if you like." Edgy Dave took the credit cards.

"How much is on 'em?"

Nick shrugged. "Dunno. Guy wore an expensive looking suit and apparently had a Rolex. Ought to be a decent amount on his card, right?"

Edgy Dave perked up. "A Rolex you say... Did ya nick it?"

"Nah, didn't even realise he had it until Ed told me about it. The bastard spat on Ed, so I had to beat the shit out of him." Edgy Dave looked up sharply when Nick mentioned the spitting.

"What a cunt! Hope ya used the knuckle duster I gave you."

"Yeah, I used the knuckle duster you sold me." Edgy Dave grinned at the correction. "Think he might've pissed himself. How much for them?"

Edgy Dave looked back at the cards. "Hundred each for the credit cards, twenty for the drivers license. The gym membership's useless." Nick looked up sharply.

"That fat fuck had a gym membership?"

Edgy Dave was mildly surprised. "Yeah, why the surprise?"

"He's a fuckin' whale."

Edgy Dave leered. "Mr Dursley probably used it to perv on the women who do spinnin'. Great arses on 'em."

Nick grinned lecherously. "I might have to get a gym membership then. Thanks for the tip."

"Best way is to put your spinnin' bike on the lowest settin' and pretend to be puttin' in effort. That way, they think you actually want to be fit. If you want you can actually do spinnin'. It's fuckin' hard work, though."

Nick nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, might do that. It was great talking to you, but could I have my money? It's just, Ed's waiting for me to take him back to the squat."

"Ah, yeah, sure." Edgy Dave handed over the money. "Say 'hi' to Ed for me."

"Sure thing." Nick waved goodbye.

"Take the wallet."

Nick shook his head. "Nah, I'm alright."

"It's one of those shitty paper ones. From some 'Grunnings' company. Burn it at the squat." Edgy Dave held out the wallet.

"Cheers." Nick pocketed it. He walked back to Ed, whilst humming the tune to Footloose. He helped Ed up and it didn't take them long to get to the squat. It was an abandoned house. Ostensibly, it belonged to some bloke by the name of Debenham. They never bothered to check up on it, so it was inhabited by Nick and Ed. Nick propped Ed up against the wall next to the door and hopped the fence. He climbed through the kitchen window and went to unlock the door.

After unlocking the door, Nick helped Ed onto the mattress he used as a bed. He chucked the wallet onto the low burning fire in the centre of the room. He sat on the cheap plastic chair he'd nicked from someone's back garden back in the summer. "So, what do ya want for tea?"

January 13th 1989 3:49 PM Magnolia Crescent Park, Surrey

"Nah, you ask 'im."

"Nah, nah, nah. I'm not askin' 'im. You gotta ask 'im."

Nick sighed. He was leaning against the fence of the Park. "Ask me what?" He glared at the two teens. They looked about twelve or thirteen. If Nick went to school, he'd probably know them. Might even be friends with them. One was really spotty and had shoulder length hair. The other was a little bit chubby and had a bit of bum fluff. He also had one of the Jewish hats. Nick couldn't remember what they were called.

The spotty one gulped and came a bit closer. "I, uh, that is to say we, uh, we heard you, um, sell herbs?"

Nick stared at the kid. "Do you mean weed?"

"Um, yes?"

"Tenner."

"R-really?" The spotty teen smiled in shock, the boy with the bum fluff's mouth formed a perfect circle.

Nick sighed. "Yes, really. Give me a tenner and I'll give you some weed." The Jewish one gave him a ten pound note. Clearly he was the one with the money. Nick snatched it and pulled out a small, plastic baggy of weed. "Don't let anyone catch you with that."

The spotty one grinned. "We won't. Cheers." The two teens left.

"Thank God for that," Nick mumbled. He hopped the fence and went to the swings. He began to push himself back and forth a bit. He lit a cigarette for himself and swung for a bit. After he finished his cigarette, he got up and made his way to the exit. As he opened the gate, a tiny boy ran into him.

"S-sorry sir!" The boy ran off. Nick shook his head and turned to leave again, when a skinny rat-faced boy ran into him.

"Oi, watch where you're goin'!" The boy ran off and was followed by three other boys. The fattest one at the end called for "Piers" to slow down. Nick looked after the boys and saw the ratty kid tackle the small one to the ground. "Got you!" The rat lifted the boy up and held his arms behind his head.

"Nice one, Piers! I get to punch him first!" Nick watched as the fatty walked up to Piers and the midget and hit the tiny kid in the stomach. The other boys started to take turns. Nick sighed.

"Now that just isn't right." Nick walked back into the park and went up to the bullies. "Four against one? And he's so much smaller than you. That's not fair."

"Life's not fair!"

Nick nodded. "True. Life isn't fair. Which is why I'm going to give you twats until the count of ten to fuck off, or I'll beat the shit outta you. One." The rat laughed. "Two." The American-Brit started punching the kid again. "Three." Hang on. That whale looks like someone he knew. "Four." The rich twat! "Say, lard-arse. You don't happen to know anyone who's face got caved in back in December do you?" The fatty scowled and resolutely punched the kid again.

"His Dad got mugged back in December, why?" Nick gave a predatory grin and put on his knuckle duster.

"Just wondering. I'm still a bit peeved that I didn't notice his watch. Was it a real Rolex?" Dursley whipped his head around.

"You mugged my dad?"

"Yeah. Do you wanna find out how he felt?" He raised his fist threateningly. The boys noticed the knuckle duster for the first time. "I thought not. Beat it, or I'll beat you." The bullies legged it. Nick looked at the kid. He couldn't have been more than six or seven. "You all right kid?"

"You shouldn't have done that."

Nick frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Dudley will tell his parents and I'll be locked in the cupboard again."

Nick, who had removed the knuckle duster to put in his pocket, dropped the weapon in shock. "What d'you mean?"

"Dudley, the fat one, is my cousin. My parents are dead, so I have to live with them. They don't like me because I'm a freak." Nick was pissed off. Not because of the obvious abuse, although he didn't like it, but because of the resigned look on the kids face. The look that said he deserves it. The look that says, 'Yes. I am a freak. I deserve to be locked in a cupboard.'

"Where do you live?"

"In the cupboard under the stairs." Nick's fists clenched.

"I meant house number." Nick was gritting his teeth in fury. Fucking Dursley's.

"Oh, Number Four, Privet Drive."

"Excuse me, are you Nicholas Jacobson?" Nick turned to look at the voice. It was some guy in his twenties wearing a suit. Nick looked back at the kid. Or at least where the kid used to be. He'd disappeared. Nick looked back at the stranger.

"Who wants to know?"

"My name is Jack Debenham." Shit. "I'm not angry at you for squatting at my place, but it's the guy who was there. I think he said his name was Ed?" Bollocks. "He was coughing a lot when I arrived to take a look at the house. He asked for you. Said you'd probably be at this park. I think he's dying." Nick didn't listen to another word the man said. Nick ran to the squat. He didn't bother going round the back. He rammed the front door with his shoulder and broke it down.

"SHIT!" Someone's hand was in his face and his eyes started to burn. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?"

"What the FUCK?!?" She'd pepper sprayed him. Right in the fucking eyes. "Never fucking mind. Is Ed breathing?"

"Oh, are you Nick?"

"Just fucking tell me, you dumb cunt!"

"Alright, no need to be a dick about. I'll check for a pulse... Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Fuck, I can't feel a pulse."

Nick walked back and forth in worry. He could hear Debenham's girlfriend panicking. "I'm so sorry, Nick." Nick went calmly to the sink and washed the pepper spray from his eyes. His eyes were still watering, but he could see now.

"FUUUUUUUCK!!" He swung and punched a hole in the wall. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FFFFUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!" He punctuated each fuck with a punch. The last fuck had him sliding to the ground in grief.

"I'm sorry for your loss. You can stay here until you get a place figured out. If you want, I'll let you rent it." Apparently, Debenham had got here.

"Fuckin' forget it. I'll be gone by tomorrow."

14th January 1989 8:47 AM Privet Drive, Little Whinging

Vernon was angry. Not only did he get his nose smashed by some crazy youth, but his son gets threatened by the same youth. And his son couldn't describe him any more than 'He was white and had brown hair. He was older than I am.' A trip to the fair should calm the family's nerves. Hopefully the crazy shit wouldn't follow them to the fair. Last thing they needed was a stalker. Best of all, the Freak was where he belonged. Locked in the cupboard. Good riddance. "Come along, Dudley. If we take to long to get to the fair, all the best attractions will be busy." And the car was working! Thank God! He still didn't buy the mechanics reason of the suspension breaking as to why the car wouldn't start. Even if it was the reason, how dare the mechanic imply it was his fault.

Nick grinned as he heard the whale announce to the street at large that they were going to the fair. He watched as the car turned the corner and disappeared. He and Edgy Dave hopped the fence and found the security alarm. Dave disarmed it and Nick used his crowbar on the backdoor. They were in.

"Im gonna go upstairs to steal some of their jewellery. And smoke a joint in their room. Y'know, just to piss the rich pricks off. The wannabe-gangsta ran up the stairs to find the Master Bedroom. Nick rolled his eyes. The fourteen-year-old looked for the cupboard under the stairs. It didn't take long. There was a padlock. He sighed and listened for the kid he knew was here. He heard someone crying softly. He broke the lock off the door and swung it open. The kid flinched.

"Hey, kid. It's all right, I'm not gonna hurt you. What's your name?"

"Harry Potter." Nick smiled reassuringly at him.

"Well, Harry. I can get you far away from the Dursley's. If you like. If not, I can give you the money to get far away from them. This is no way to live." Harry had a glimpse of hope in his eyes.

"Really? You'll take me away with you? You want me? You don't think I'm a freak?" Nick snarled.

"You are not a freak. The Dursley's are horrible people." Just then, they heard a smashing noise. Apparently, Edgy Dave felt like some destruction.

"What's that noise?" Nick looked at the curious face of Harry.

"That's my... friend. His name's Edgy Dave." Harry looked confused.

"What kind of name's 'Edgy Dave'?" Nick laughed.

"A twat's name. His name's really Dave, but he likes people to call him 'Edgy Dave', don't ask me why. I'll introduce you to him when he gets down here. He might be a while though, do you want some food?"

"Yes, please." Nick smiled. Despite having such a terrible upbringing, he was still very polite. Nick made them both a sandwich.

"He's 21. He's a bit of a dick, but an alright guy. He has his problems, like anyone, but he is, a generally good person. How old are you, by the way?" Harry finished his mouthful of sandwich before speaking.

"I'm eight." Nick stopped himself from taking another bite.

"You don't get a lot to eat, do you?" Harry shook his head. "I thought not. You're too short. I thought you'd be six, or maybe a very young seven. They don't feed you here, do they?" Harry shook his head. "Damn Dursley's."

"Hey, Nick. How come there's a kid?" Nick and Harry looked towards the entrance of the kitchen to see Edgy Dave with a cigar in his hand. His other hand was around the back of his trousers, grabbing something.

"This is Harry. He lives in the cupboard under the stairs." Edgy Dave, who had just had a puff of his cigar, coughed up a cloud of smoke.

"You're joking?!?" Nick shook his head. "But this is a three bedroom house... and two of the bedrooms are kids rooms..."

"Those are Dudley's." Both criminals stared incredulously at Harry.

"Harry, write a note telling them that you're running away and that they will never have to see you again." Nick turned to Edgy Dave. "Dave, take this crowbar and destroy everything we can't steal."

Edgy Dave put his cigar in his mouth and took the crowbar into the next room. "'Edgy Dave', arsehole." Harry and Nick heard a smashing noise. Eventually, Harry agreed to write the note and Nick started stealing stuff as well. After half an hour, Edgy Dave decided to bring something up with Nick.

"Nick, I should stay here. That way, the Dursley's won't be able to pin it on Harry." Nick frowned and opened his mouth to say something. "Don't worry, I won't get caught. I'm sure I'll be able to outrun the doughball."

Nick smirked. "He's more than a doughball. You sure you're ok with this?"

"Yeah. I'll wear my balaclava. Still got it on me. You're going to London soon, aren't you?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah. Chuck is half of that jewellery, would ya?" After stashing the jewels in his bag with the other valuables he'd stolen, he turned back to the kitchen. "Come on, Harry. We've got a train to catch. See ya, Edgy Dave."

Edgy Dave took a puff of his cigar. "Bye, Nick. We both know we'll never see each other again." Nick nodded his agreement and left with Harry. Edgy Dave rested his cigar in an ashtray while he pulled on his balaclava. He placed it back in his mouth as he pulled out a gun and waited for the Dursley's. He wasn't gonna kill them. He was just gonna make them shit themselves. Unless they made him kill them. Then he'd have no choice.


End file.
